Checkmate
by Comedy Kitty
Summary: What if Bartelby had made it to Heaven? What is the end of everything like? Is it worth it all...? [My first Dogma fic. If anyone is still around, review?]


(I don't own anything. This all belongs to Mr. Kevin Smith, who my cousin has met *grumble* lucky bastard...anyways, all characters are taken from movie. I completely made up the whole thing about the chess game. Other than that, here it is. I just want to know, what would've happened if Bartleby HAD made it into the church and succeeded in his plan. Besides the end of the world, what would've happened? What would it have been like?)

****

Checkmate

Pure white feathers tainted with blood floated to the ground. Even when smeared with blood, they still were the picture of innocence. No matter that they were from an Angel's wings. No matter that the blood was from this Angel's gift from God - his wings - as they were ripped from his body. No matter that this Angel, one of God's favored children, had just gone on a rampage, murdering hundreds of innocent people and supposed sinners. No matter he had killed his best friend and only companion he had had for eons, when they had been exiled from heaven,

The Angel bit his lip as pieces of his wings were blown away, and once the maelstrom of bullets ended, he knew it had changed now. And he felt every weakness and every pain a mortal would feel, all at once. He saw blood on his hand, _his_ blood. Not the blood of the sinners, who laid dead around him, their blood becoming a frightening decor to the scenery, smeared and splattered all around him. When he saw his own blood, he tasted it.

Fear, pain, agony, rage, depression, all these human emotions. They were tangible. You can feel them, smell them, see and hear them...and taste them. They come in the form of a crimson liquid, which Bartleby was experiencing all at once. You see, Angels cannot feel emotions. They were made without these things. And now that Bartleby's wings were gone, he felt these things all at once.

Bartleby had to laugh when he tasted his own blood. When he felt these strange feelings. He had to laugh because it was all too funny to him. He was now just like the scum he had spent so much energy on destroying. Then his laugh died short, becoming a choked cry of pain and remorse. Quickly, he masked his pain by letting out an insane cackle, of some sorts. He could not let the fools know his weakness. His eyes fell on Loki, his only companion and a deep well of sadness dawned upon him. Remorse. Regret. _Don't worry my friend. I will finish this for the both of us...I promise you_. He thought. Giving one last glance to the Muse, that stoner prophet and the 13th Apostle, he turned and broke into a flat out run towards the church.

***

Up in heaven, the fates had begun a game of chess. This game, had in-fact begun centuries ago. It dragged on forever, played by one holding the fate of the good, the other held the fate of all that is evil. Every once and a while, one would seem to have the edge over another. But then, it'd even out once again, and the game ends in a stalemate. Neither would win, so they'd just start a new game.

And it would continue until the world came to an end.

***

Bethany rushed through the hospital, Silent Bob directly behind her. She wasn't sure what she would do, but she knew it was their last chance. She glanced back at Bob. "Stay here, I'll be right back." Bob nodded, leaned against the doorframe, and waited. 

At one look at the old man lying on the bed, and Bethany knew this _had_ to be God. So she began unplugging anything that kept the old man alive. "I hope you're the skee-ball type..." She pulled the tube from the old man's mouth. A brilliant light flooded the room. Bethany gasped, crumpling to the floor. Blood poured from her stomach, and a sudden sense of clarity came upon her.

She knew the truth. She knew that this pilgrimage was in vain. Her sacrifice was all worthless now, and not only her sacrifice. Rufus, Serendipity, Bob and even Jay. The World. **Her**. Metatron had trusted her to this, and she had failed. She had failed them all.

She knew this because this light was expelled from God. And somehow, she knew as if it was a message from Her: it was too late for even Her to help now.

***

The mighty doors of the church flung open, and Bartleby entered it. Pride swelled up inside him. "I've done it..." he whispered to himself. He chuckled softly. And before he could realize it, he dropped to his knees and began to weep softly to himself, mourning all he had killed.

All were innocent...and Loki. He murdered his own best friend. Bartleby stood up, controlling his emotions. He quelled his thoughts of remorse, convincing himself it was for the best. "I will finish this for you, Loki." he vowed.

"Dammit Bartleby, you always have to make things difficult, don't you?" Bartleby turned to see Rufus, with that prophet behind him. 

Bartleby grinned. "Of course..." From outside the church, they heard Serendipity scream a warning. And before any could react, a group from the police broke in. "Careful..." he called out to the wary police. "I'm a reckless sole. I'm liable to snap at any moment..." He told them, with an insane smirk. The officers gave each other confused glances, unsure on what to do.

"Bartleby, you crazy son of a bitch! You're outta your mind!" Rufus started to yell at him.

"I say we blow the fucker away!" Jay added, getting a glare from Rufus, and now Serendipity, who joined them moments ago. "What? He's a douche, we should just get these guys to get rid of 'im."

"Jay, if you would remember..." Serendipity's voice dropped to a whisper, re-explaining the whole flaw to his plan. Slowly, Jay realized the downfall of killing Bartleby.

At this, the former Angel laughed. "Why don't you tell these nice police men what would happen?" Serendipity glared at Bartleby. Then he realized his opening to be able to go home. Before anyone could comprehend the dark look that clouded his eyes, his knife was in his hand, and up against Serendipity's throat. "I suggest you do something, pigs, or I'll slit her throat."

"You know can't kill me, why are you doing this?" She hissed.

"Because..." he whispered to her. "You are my ticket back." He watched the policemen reach for their guns, their fingers ready to pull the trigger. "Thank you." He said to her, throwing her aside just in time to let bullets rip through his body. And darkness over took him...

***

The fates continued their game, the pieces moving without them even having to touch it. The evil one moved a Queen across the board...then stared at the board in the wonder.

"Checkmate..." he murmured.

Then oblivion...

***

For Bartleby, death was quick. He could only wish Loki's death was this fast and relieving. He only wished that by in fact destroying all existence, he had destroyed his friend's pain in the depths of hell. 

But once the hard part - dying - was over, Bartleby came to the reward: Home. He had to break out into a grin when he came to the gates. He had to laugh when he saw the familiar surroundings. He was finally home.

But then he realized something; he was alone. From what he remembered, Heaven was filled with all sorts of Saints, Angels, and what not. Saint Peter wasn't even there. "Nothing here is real, Bartleby." Someone said from behind him.

Bartleby spun around, seeing who it was. "The Voice..." he whispered. Not only the voice. Her. She was with him. _But of course he would be with Her. He's Her voice_. He thought to himself. Bartleby stared at the two for a moment. God wore a dress that would've complimented Her figure, if She had an actual figure. The Metatron had his usual dark clothing on, his voice still thickly cultured British accent. Bartleby had always found it strange that even as Angels, they had ethnicity. He set his mind on the present, bowing his head giving some respect for Her.

"Oh look up Bartleby." Metatron snapped. "For Christ's sake you just destroyed all existence! Now is not the time to try to make nice with God!" Metatron looked at God. "Tell me why we are doing this again." She just shrugged, looking at him. "Right then..." he muttered, looking back at Bartleby. "So do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"...Where is Loki?" Bartleby asked quickly. Metatron gave him a blank stare.

"You do realize you've erased all existence. None of this exists." He paused motioning to God. "She managed to delay it. Why? I don't know! She won't even tell me!" He ranted. "I'm not _that_ important...I'm just your damn voice, is all." He complained to God.

"What?"

Metatron sighed, his voice low. "Once She exiled you all those years ago, you could never go home. With your decision to return here, you've screwed us all." He watched Bartleby for a minute. "Once our conversation is over, there will be nothing. Everything you've done, everyone you've sacrificed is in vain. You can never go home."

Bartleby's eyes dropped to the ground. "...I'm not sorry..." he whispered.

"What did you say?" Metatron asked.

"I'm not." Bartleby said more forcefully. "Just to see home again. Just to be off that damn planet. Just to know that if I did something rash, something would happen." He started, his voice raising. "Just to know there was a way to get back. To save Loki from hell. And to realize that She cares about the humans more than the Angels, Her older and wiser children. All of that made it worth it..."

Metatron sighed, looking to the floor for a minute. Before he could speak, God stepped forward, placing her hand against his cheek. He looked into her eyes, saw her tears, and realized all that he had done. "So many opportunity's Bartleby. You've thrown them all away." Metatron said for God. "So many people could've lived their lives. Some had barely begun, some had finally found their release in Heaven, or punishment in Hell. But you wanted to see your 'Home' again, and all those chances are gone." Metatron sighed. "And now, you won't even see any of this. Take a good look Bartleby..." He said, sadly. God placed a kiss on Bartleby's cheek, then stepped away, nodding to Metatron. "Because this is the end..." Bartleby just closed his eyes and waited.

And then**. . .**

(Bah, that sucked. All well, if there is still anyone around here, review? Maybe?)


End file.
